


my only weakness (you know all my secrets)

by allsassnoclass (brightblackholes)



Series: vampire Michael [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, I'm sorry but foot fetishes are mentioned, Implied Sexual Content, Little bit of angst, M/M, Supernatural Elements, no one has one! but they're mentioned, vampire!michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27297097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightblackholes/pseuds/allsassnoclass
Summary: Michael is having a hard time figuring out if the amount of vampire jokes and references is due to Ashton knowing his deepest, darkest secret, or if that's just his sense of humor.
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin
Series: vampire Michael [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132595
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	my only weakness (you know all my secrets)

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a Halloween fic challenge on Tumblr! Each of us was assignment a pairing (very pleased that I got mashton <3) and got to choose a prompt. Honestly writing this fic was an absolute blast so shout out to Ainslee for organizing this!
> 
> My prompt was as follows: “You’ve told me three separate times now you have a vampire kink and I’m starting to wonder if you know I’m a vampire.” Or, pretty explanatory. One person is a vampire. The other has a vampire “kink”. (Can also be them saying they like the aesthetic, or trying to hint that they know and don’t mind. Literally do what you want with it)
> 
> I strayed a little bit but! hope you all enjoy!
> 
> title is from Reignite by Knox Brown

1.

The first time it happens, they’re heading to their first date.

Michael hasn’t really dated anyone since the 90s, because dating is complicated. He doesn’t age. He can’t eat regular food. Going out in the sun is dicy at best and results in extremely painful sunburn at worst. He shows up in most mirrors now, because they rarely have silver backing anymore, but pictures are a no-go because his eyes cause a lens flare.

The last person he went on an actual date with was Calum, because they’ve been friends for centuries and figured they might as well give it a go. Michael wishes they could have worked, but it took some making out before they both agreed that, as much as they love each other, it’s all platonic. The date itself was fun, but there were no romantic butterflies to be found. Michael has seen Calum naked many times before, and while he can appreciate a handsome man, when it’s Calum it does nothing for him.

Ashton is very handsome. He’s also funny, and passionate, and he’s got more than enough snark to speak Michael’s language. He’s got tenacity and determination, and for some reason part of that determination got directed towards getting Michael on a date with him.

He didn’t have to work very hard. Michael said yes at the first opportunity.

For the first date, Ashton asked if he could pick him up, so Michael waits nervously in his living room, listening to his grandfather clock ticking. (He’s had it since 1733. It was made specifically for him by the clockmaker, a parting gift because if Michael stayed in the area for too much longer, his lack of ageing would get suspicious.)

(This is such a bad idea. Even if this date goes well, Michael can’t be in a relationship with a human for very long before his secret will slip.)

His phone vibrates with a message, and he nearly jumps out of his skin before he realizes that it’s just Calum, not Ashton about to cancel or spring a sudden change of plans.

Cal:  _ have fun on your date ;) wow him with your Biting sense of humor _

Michael:  _ i hate you the puns got old centuries ago _

Cal:  _ you love them _

Michael’s doorbell rings, startling him enough that he fumbles his phone and effectively cutting off any sort of argument he may have started to get into. Michael stands from the couch, takes a deep breath, and answers the door.

Ashton looks really fucking good. Michael has only really seen him in their work clothes, when Ashton is writing up articles about the local music scene and Michael is busy approving things to put on the website, but he dresses up very nicely. His hair is artfully tousled in a way Michael knows must take a little bit of time, and Michael thinks there might be just a hint of glitter under his eyes that would make his heart palpitate if it still did stuff like that. His shirt is short sleeved, showing off his arms nicely, and there are roses printed against the white fabric that match the ones in the bouquet in his hands.

Michael doesn’t know the last time someone gave him flowers.

“Hi,” Ashton says. “You look amazing.”

Michael feels like he’s underdressed now. He’s got on a black long sleeve, because the sun hasn’t fully set yet and he’s trying to cover as much skin as possible, and a pair of black jeans. It’s a nicer shirt of his, something name brand that he can afford due to decades of saving here and there, but he’s well aware that his overall style leans more casual than dressy.

“Thanks,” he says. “You look absolutely fantastic.”

Ashton glances down and smiles, pleased. Michael likes that he can make him react like that.

“I got you flowers,” Ashton says. “I hope you aren’t allergic. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but I’d feel silly.”

“I’m not,” Michael smiles, taking them from him. There are a few sprigs of lily of the valley tucked in amongst the roses and ferns, and he takes a deep inhale. He loves the sweet scent of roses and how lively fresh flowers can appear to be even when they’re dying. Maybe it’s self-centered, but he likes to think there are some similarities between him and the plants. They’re not alive anymore, but they’re still going, and they can still bring people a little bit of joy for a few impermanent moments before moving on.

“I’ll put these in some water. You can step in for a second, if you want.”

He had excessively cleaned the entry and living room earlier in the evening, paranoid in case something like this forced Ashton inside. At least now he’s certain that there’s nothing incriminating lying about.

“Nice place,” Ashton says.

“Thanks,” Michael replies, already booking it for the kitchen to grab a vase. Once he gets there he takes a moment to try to stop the slight shake to his hands and compose himself.

_ You are an ancient, immortal being who has lived through the fall of empires _ , he scolds himself.  _ You can handle one date with a cute boy who brought you flowers _ .

Ashton beams when Michael says he’s ready to go.

“I was thinking we could walk, if that’s okay,” he says while Michael locks the door behind them. “It’s not far.”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re actually going, yet?” Michael asks. Ashton mimes zipping his lips. The only information he gave Michael was that it’s going to be a pretty casual setting (and yet he showed up to Michael’s door looking like  _ that _ ) and that Michael won’t have to eat. That’s something he specifically requested, making up a bunch of excuses about being gluten free and severely lactose intolerant and giving a list of other allergens a mile long.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Ashton laughs when he pouts. “Come on.”

He grabs Michael’s hand to start leading him down the street, and Michael absolutely will not admit to himself how nice it feels, warm and alive against his.

They go through some basic small talk on the way there, touching on current work projects since they’re in different departments and learning a bit more about each other’s families. Michael makes an excuse about his being in Australia and tells Ashton about Calum instead, and Ashton fills time by describing his mom and siblings. It’s cute to see the way he lights up, seeming radiant in the light of the setting sun that Michael has to squint harshly against.

“Wow, you really don’t like the sun,” Ashton says eventually.

“What? Oh, not really, I guess.”

“I should’ve known, but I wasn’t sure if all of you are fully nocturnal or not.”

“What?” Michael asks, alarm bells ringing. “Why would you--what makes you say that?”

Ashton shrugs nonchalantly.

“You know. You’re just so pale and pasty,” he says, obvious tease in his voice. “Definitely closer to a creature of the night than an early bird, I’d guess.”

He’s joking. Ashton has not, somehow, discovered his secret ten minutes into their first date.

“Oh fuck you,” he laughs. “Not all of us can have perfect natural tans. I burn really easily.”

“Do you glow in the dark, too? Turn fluorescent under blacklights?”

“Shut up,” Michael says, but he leans a little into Ashton as he says it to let him know that the banter isn’t unwelcome.

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

Michael doesn’t have a chance to ask what he means before Ashton is pulling him towards the doors of a large building. He holds it open for him like a gentleman, and Michael misses the contact of their hands but appreciates having all of his senses free to process the new environment, which is full of a plethora of new sights, sounds, and smells.

“Roller skating?” Michael asks, looking around the large arena. It’s dim, but his eyes adjust immediately to take in the wondrously tacky carpet outside the rink, highlighted in brief bursts by rotating colorful lights. Loud music plays over the speakers, and in the arena people in small groups or pairs are making their way around the track. He can smell fried food and various types of beverages coming from a bar in the corner, mingling with the scent of unfamiliar people. He takes it all in for a moment, then dials back his senses to make it more bearable.

“It’ll be fun,” Ashton says. “Willing to give it a go?”

“Definitely.”

They go get their skates, and Ashton pays for the shoe rental and the entrance fee. Michael hasn’t been roller skating in probably around a decade, and he’s excited Ashton picked this as their date location. So many date ideas these days have to do with food, the only thing Michael absolutely can’t participate in, but Ashton found something that will hopefully be fun while still allowing them to talk and get to know each other better.

“Ready?” Ashton asks. Michael nods, and then they step out into the rink.

Ashton, it turns out, is worse at roller skating than Michael is. That makes sense, because Michael did it a lot in the 70s and 90s and has gone a few times since to keep it fresh, and Ashton isn’t  _ awful _ , but there are a few instances where he wobbles and his hand immediately reaches out to grab at Michael’s arm before he rebalances and apologizes. Michael laughs at him good naturedly and does a few circles around him until Ashton huffs and Michael slips an arm through his.

“Come on,” Michael says. “Once you’re used to this in about fifteen minutes, I’ll race you around the track.”

Michael wins the first race, but Ashton wins the second, although Michael is giggling too much for it to count, in his opinion. They spend a lot of time making laps and talking, and Michael skates backwards to show off at every opportunity while Ashton dances to the songs that come on over the speakers to make him laugh. It’s one of the best nights Michael has had in a long time, and by the time they leave they’re both walking slowly, stretching their time together as much as possible.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Ashton says when they finally reach Michael’s door. His front light makes the glitter under Ashton’s eyes sparkle, and Michael technically doesn’t have to breathe, but his breath still catches.

“Me too,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“So...do you want to do this again?” Ashton asks.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot. I’ll take you out, next time.”

“Okay,” Ashton smiles, ducking his head. Michael catches a faint blush on his cheeks, blood rushing up to color them, and he loves that he sees Ashton like this. At work, he’s always cool and level-headed, confident in what he says and strong in his opinions. Michael has managed to turn him bashful, and that is possibly the best thing to come out of the date.

“I should let you get on with your night,” Ashton says eventually. Michael tries to find some sort of excuse to get him to stay, but then Ashton leans forward and presses his lips to Michael’s cheek, soft and lingering. When he takes a step back, Michael wants to pull him in again to memorize the scent of his skin and feel of his warmth.

“Good night,” Ashton says.

“Night,” Michael makes himself reply. Ashton smiles again, then sets off down the street. Michael watches him, smiling when he glances back and waves again, and continues to stand on his front stoop until Ashton is fully out of sight, even for him.

His phone buzzes as soon as he steps inside, and Michael pulls it out in case it’s something important or work related (or Ashton).

Cal:  _ how was the date? or are you two still going…? _

Michael:  _ really fucking good _

2.

On the third date, Michael gets to see the inside of Ashton’s apartment.

Michael took them stargazing for their second date. There was a meteor shower he wanted to try to watch, anyway, and he found a good spot outside the city where it would be mostly visible. Ashton likes being outdoors, and Michael doesn’t mind it at night, so he drove them out of the city, made the trek up a hill, and laid out a blanket for them to cuddle up in. All in all, it was a great night. Even the car ride to and from the location was amazing, because Michael told Ashton to make a playlist for it and they spent the entire time discussing favorite songs. Ashton is such a snob about it sometimes, since he’s a music journalist and is always evaluating in his head, but there were a few surprises that he put on there simply because “good music doesn’t always have to be  _ good _ music, Michael.”

Ashton kissed him on the cheek again when Michael walked him to his door. Michael thinks that something so simple shouldn’t occupy so much space in his thoughts, but he’s been replaying it in his head over and over. It’s a little distracting at work, especially when he gets one of Ashton’s articles to upload to the website.

They head to Ashton’s right after they both clock out. Ashton doesn’t live far and typically walks (he really likes walking places, Michael has noticed), but Michael drives them so he’ll have his car handy at the end of the night. It’s a relatively nice building, and Ashton holds the lobby door open for him, which counts enough as an invite to allow him to enter. They take the elevator up to the fifth floor, then Ashton unlocks his door and steps in.

From what Michael can see, it’s a nice apartment. The entry, kitchen, and living room flow easily together, and there’s a hallway off to the side that Michael assumes leads to the bathroom and bedrooms.

He can’t step over the threshold. He hasn’t been invited in this time, not explicitly enough for him to freely enter despite knowing that Ashton wants him there.

“My roommate is out for the night. I swear I cleaned before I left for work today,” Ashton says, puttering around the living room and picking up what looks like a stray sock, righting the pillows on the couch and straightening some books on the coffee table. Michael leans against the doorframe and watches him. Fluffing the pillows doesn’t really matter to Michael, but if it makes Ashton feel better it’s no hardship on him.

Ashton finishes, then glances around until he spots Michael still in the hall.

“Oh. I didn’t really invite you in, did I.”

“It would’ve been the polite thing to do,” Michael teases. “I’d hate to intrude, you know.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Ashton says, coming forward and taking both of Michael’s hands in his. “Michael Clifford, I formally invite you into my home. You are welcome here whenever you’d like.”

“A simple ‘hey, come in,’ would’ve been sufficient, but thanks,” he laughs, stepping forward.

“Absolutely not,” Ashton says. “If you’re going to be vampiric about entering my home, I’m going to treat you with the proper respect, Count Clifford.”

Apparently the vampire jokes are going to be a thing. Michael can work with that, instead of panicking over it. If he turns it into a bit, maybe Ashton will brush things off longer.

“Thank you, mortal. Now, I vant to suck your blood,” he says, exaggerating the awful stereotypical (absolutely false and insulting) accent. It gets a laugh from Ashton, though, which is what he wanted.

“If you manage to beat me at chess, I’ll let you,” Ashton says.

Michael hasn’t let himself think about Ashton’s blood. He can control himself very easily around humans, and bloodlust isn’t really a thing with him unless he hasn’t eaten in over a week. He has a specific concoction that he picks up from the magic shop like clockwork, a mixture of animal blood, some herbs, a few drops of human blood (humanely donated), and whatever the fuck is the flavor for that batch, but that doesn’t mean he’s completely forgotten how amazing it tastes to drink pure, living blood. It’s incredibly intimate, and Michael hasn’t been that close with a human in a very, very long time.

“Okay,” he chokes, once the silence has stretched on too long. Ashton quirks an eyebrow at him, but moves to get the board games without comment.

Michael loves board games. He loves all games, really, and he mostly deals with video games now to keep as up to date as possible (and because he doesn't have to invite friends over to play most of them). What’s nice about games, though, is that they can change every time. Michael has been playing chess since it was invented, but he’s never played against Ashton, and it’s going to be an entirely new experience.

Unfortunately, Ashton is extremely good at chess.

“What the fuck,” Michael says, king toppling after a five-move checkmate.

“Darn,” Ashton replies, faux innocent. “I guess there’ll be no bloodsucking tonight.”

“Wait, I want a rematch. I’m good at chess, I swear.”

Ashton wins twice more before they move on to another game. They cycle through a few before landing on a card game from Ashton’s family, one that Michael hasn’t heard of or played before. It has a lot of complicated rules, and Ashton walks him through it slowly. If Michael feints misunderstanding more than necessary just to have Ashton’s focus on him, leaning close to look at his cards and explain the best moves, then that’s his business.

Michael doesn’t realize how much time has passed until Ashton’s stomach grumbles loud enough for him to hear.

“How is it already nine o’clock?” he asks. “Shit, you haven’t eaten yet. You could’ve had something.”

Ashton just shakes his head.

“I’m not going to eat in front of you if I don’t have anything to feed you, too,” he says. Michael wishes it were possible for him to digest human food, because while Ashton does have a nice amount of blood he could tap into with permission, somehow Michael doesn’t think that’s on the table

“I have a weird meal schedule, anyway,” he says. “I eat a really big lunch, then only something small late at night. I really don’t mind.”

“I’ll remember that for future reference,” Ashton says. “Although someday I hope you let me feed you.”

It is such a good thing that breathing is an option for Michael, rather than a requirement. Ashton may not have any clue how what he’s saying sounds, but that doesn’t mean Michael isn’t affected.

“We’ll see,” he says, although there’s no chance that’ll ever happen. “I should probably head home, anyway.”

Ashton checks the time.

“You can stay longer if you want. My roommate will be back soon, but he wouldn’t mind.”

Michael wants to stay, but he’s not sure he’d ever leave if he did.

“I think I’ll go. I’m not sure we’re at the “meeting the roommates” stage yet.”

Michael stands, and Ashton follows to walk him out.

“I had a good time. Again,” Ashton says as they walk down the stairs.

“Me too, even if I think you were somehow cheating at chess.”

“Hey,” Ashton complains, then pauses. “I was going to say that jealousy isn’t a good look on you, but everything is a good look on you.”

“Shut up,” Michael says. “That’s not true at all. I have made some bad fashion choices in the past.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Ashton says. Michael wishes he could show him the pictures from the 80s, as embarrassing as they are. They reach the bottom landing entirely too soon, but Ashton walks him out to the parking deck until they’re standing next to his car.

“So,” Ashton says, squaring his shoulders. “We’ve been on three dates so far, and I really like you, Michael. Hanging out with you has been some of the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I was wondering if you wanted to officially be my boyfriend.”

Fuck. The smart thing would be to cut this off now, before either of them get too attached, because Michael already thinks it would absolutely shatter his non-existent heart if Ashton found out and thought he was a monster.

“Absolutely,” he says instead, because he’s an idiot who wants what he can’t have. “These past few dates have been the most fun I’ve had in a long time, too.”

Ashton beams, like the sun breaking through clouds. He has dimples, and Michael really wants to press his fingers into the divots. He just wants to touch Ashton everywhere, really, to feel the soft skin and know that there’s blood bringing heat to it from his heart to every corner and crevice.

There’s something so absolutely tantalizing about how alive Ashton is. Michael knows that he can’t be more like him, not even if he was actually alive still, but he’s content to have him near. He’d be content to watch from a distance, honestly, but if Ashton wants him close then Michael is going to stay close.

He should  _ not _ be this whipped after only the third date.

“Well,” he says once they’ve spent too much time grinning at each other silently.

“I should let you go,” Ashton says. “I’ll text you.”

“I’d like that,” Michael says. He goes to open his car door, but Ashton’s hand on his wrist stops him. He leans forward and to kiss Michael on the cheek, just like the past two dates, but this time it lands a bit lower and closer to the middle. The corner of his mouth hits Michael’s and lingers there for just a second longer than he can bear.

“For fucks sake,” he breathes, then slots their lips together properly. Ashton smiles into the kiss before he can get it under control and properly kiss back. Maybe it’s dramatic to say that this kiss feels like it’s filling some hole in Michael that he didn’t know was vacant, but Michael is a dramatic guy, and there’s something special about the way their noses bump and how instinctual it is to shift closer. Michael doesn’t really want it to end, so he gives Ashton another peck before pulling away fully. Ashton’s eyes take a moment to flutter open.

It’s definitely far too early to be in love, but Michael is very self-aware after being around for so long, and he knows he’s going to have to actively try not to fall head-over-heels for Ashton.

“Have a good night, Ashton,” Michael says.

“You too. Drive safe.”

Michael keeps his composure as he pulls out of the parking space, aware of Ashton’s eyes on him. He manages to keep it together all the way home, actually, but the moment his door shuts behind him he’s leaning against it, giddy with a crush and wondering what he’s just gotten himself into.

3.

Movie nights become a bit of a thing. It’s a low-maintenance way to spend time together, and sometimes they’re both too tired after grueling work days or hard weeks to be around a lot of people. Michael’s house has a pretty nice tv, and he has an extensive movie collection, including some horrible b-movies on VHS that Ashton finds endlessly amusing. A lot of Michael’s favorite moments are spent snuggled up on the couch under Ashton’s arm or with his feet in his lap, watching the way the light from the screen plays off of his face more than the movie itself.

Ashton hasn’t seen the  _ Twilight _ movies, which is almost a travesty. Michael watched all of them in theatres with Calum, both of them weirdly captivated with how completely bonkers and inaccurate they are, and they’ve seen them often enough to quote them almost completely to each other at the drop of a hat. Michael is tired today, and he wants something he doesn’t have to pay much attention to.

He sleeps significantly less than humans do, but that doesn’t mean that staying up for the past week and a half straight was a good idea. He was also on his feet more than usual at work, and everything is hurting a little. His body has better-than-average healing, but it’s also over a few centuries old. Today, he’s feeling it.

Edward has just gotten the first sniff of Bella and looks like he’s about to puke when Ashton turns to him. Michael is leaning against the corner of the couch, head lolling to the side and feet tucked up next to him. He’s been looking at Ashton and letting his thoughts drift, and he should probably be more embarrassed than he is that he was caught at it.

“What’s up with you today?” Ashton asks. “You’re suspiciously quiet.”

“Tired,” Michael says. “My feet hurt.”

“I can help with one of those things,” he says. “Give me your feet.”

“What?”

Ashton gestures until Michael uncurls, stretching his legs out until his feet land in Ashton’s lap. He starts at Michael’s ankles, gently rubbing and then moving to the bottoms of his feet. Michael jumps when he presses down on a particularly tight tendon, but it’s already feeling leagues better.

“I can’t believe you’re touching my feet,” he groans as Ashton presses a knuckle into the center, making his toes curl. “That’s so gross.”

Ashton snorts.

“I don’t mind, but I’ll wash my hands after if it makes you feel better. I just want to make you feel good.”

Michael’s face would be completely inflamed if he had the blood for it.

“Shut up. This better not be a fetish for you.”

Ashton laughs this time, a full belly laugh that Michael would enjoy hearing more if it didn’t make him stop the massage.

“Would that be a deal breaker?” he giggles when he’s calmed down enough. Michael takes a moment to evaluate if he’s actually joking or not, because he really likes Ashton and has loved being his boyfriend for the past couple of months, but feet might be where he draws the line.

“No, I don’t have a foot fetish,” Ashton says after a moment of Michael staring at him like a deer in the headlights. Michael lets out a sigh of relief. He can be adventurous about stuff like that, and he’s been around long enough to try basically everything, but someone being aroused by his feet will always be just a little too weird.

“Do you have any embarrassing fetishes or kinks?” Ashton asks conversationally. “Just… for future reference, if that’s something you want.”

They haven’t done anything besides some lazy making out, which Michael is grateful for. He likes that they’re taking their time with it. He doesn’t want to rush this, but the thought has crossed his mind before.

He swallows. Ashton’s alternating between glancing at the tv and paying attention to his massage, and Michael doesn’t know if he should be grateful that he’s not trapped under that gaze or upset that he doesn’t have Ashton’s full undivided attention.

“Nothing embarrassing,” Michael says. “I’m open to a lot of things, but I really like being taken care of. I’ve been told I can be demanding and needy. Sometimes I like… being held down, I guess. Nothing excessive, but…”

He’s an extra-strong, extra-resilient being. Every time he feels like someone else has the control, it’s a special kind of rush.

Ashton glances at him from under his eyelashes, the blue-green light from the tv casting strange and otherworldly shadows over his face. Michael swallows thickly again.

“I like taking care of my partner, so that works out,” Ashton says. Michael nods. Ashton turns back to the tv and tilts his head in consideration, putting his neck on full display.

“You know,” he says, “I never really was into biting, but now…” He trails off, then brings a finger up to his neck, tracing along the length of it subconsciously. At least, Michael hopes that it’s subconscious. The air is thick with tension, and if Ashton is doing this on purpose than he knows a lot more about Michael than he’s let on.

“It might be nice to be marked up a bit,” Ashton says. He glances at Michael, the corner of his mouth turning up in a small smile. “Maybe Bella had the right idea, going after a vampire.”

Michael snorts and the tension dissipates like a balloon popping.

“I hardly think anyone in this movie counts as a real vampire.”

“You don’t think real vampires sparkle in the sun?” Ashton asks. “Darn. What’s the point of vampires if you have to dump glitter on them for the sparkle effect?”

“You’re an idiot,” Michael laughs.

“ _ I’m _ the idiot? You’re the one who’s all the way over there when you have a perfectly good boyfriend right here who’s ready to cuddle you.”

Michael rolls his eyes and shifts to tuck himself against Ashton’s side.

“Happy?” he asks.

“Very,” Ashton says, taking a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over them. It’s cozy. Michael sighs in contentment.

“Do your feet feel a little better?” Ashton asks, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“If you want to take a nap now, you can.”

Michael hums and seeks out Ashton’s other hand, tangling their fingers together sloppily. He’s tired, but he probably won’t drift off. He has all night for a power nap, and right now he doesn’t want to miss a second of his time with Ashton.

4.

The door bangs shut behind them, and Michael doesn’t have a moment to reorient himself before Ashton is on him again, lips incessantly seeking his and body caging him against the wall. Michael’s own hands are already slipping under his shirt, desperate to feel the warm expanse of his back and pull him even closer. He’s always run cold, even before he was turned, but right now he feels like he’s burning up from the inside out, flames igniting with every point of contact between them. Ashton gets a hand in his hair and tugs, and Michael makes a noise he wasn’t expecting to come out of him.

_ Don’t drop your fangs, don’t drop your fangs, don’t drop your fangs _ , he repeats to himself. It’s typically effortless to keep his fangs retracted and unnoticable, but he hasn’t done this with someone he truly likes in a very, very long time. He can’t allow himself to get so mindlessly overwhelmed that they slip down.

Ashton detaches their lips to take a breath, and Michael takes the opportunity to trail kisses over his jawline and down the column of his throat. Ashton hums into it, the sound reverberating through his vocal chords, and Michael nips at his throat to turn the hum into a groan, sucking at it again to ease the sting.

There’s a particular feeling of satisfaction at leaning back briefly to take in his progress, knowing that the blood is pooling just under the surface of Ashton’s skin. When he returns to his ministrations with a slightly harsher bite, Ashton jolts, rocking into him.

“ _ Fuck _ , Michael,” he breathes.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Michael asks between kisses, trailing over his collarbones now because Ashton never buttons his fucking shirts.

“Anything. Everything. I--” He’s cut off by another groan that dissolves into a breathless laugh. “You’re so fucking distracting; get back up here.”

He tugs on Michael’s hair again, guiding their mouths together. It’s easier than breathing to let Ashton take control, and Michael could stand here all night and let himself be kissed against the wall if there weren’t other things he wanted to be doing in the bedroom. Still, he whines when Ashton pulls away.

“I know you don’t sleep, and I’ll keep up as much as I can,” Ashton pants. “I can’t fucking wait to take you apart.”

“So do it,” Michael says, not able to care about how desperate he sounds. “No one’s stopping you.”

“You’re such a mouthy little shit,” he says, leaning back in for a kiss that Michael feels all the way down to his toes. They don’t part again until they’re in the bedroom and falling onto the mattress.

-/-

Afterwards, Michael watches, amused, as Ashton fights to keep his eyes open. They never turned on the lights, but Michael can see just fine with his vampire eyesight and the early rays of sunshine beginning to paint the sky outside in pinks and oranges.

“Just go to sleep,” Michael laughs, tracing another mindless pattern onto Ashton’s ribs. “We’re done. I can’t handle anything else.”

“Weird to sleep when you’re not,” he mumbles, eyes already slipping closed again. “Can feel you watching me.”

“I won’t watch you,” Michael says. “I’ll probably fall asleep right after.”

Ashton snorts halfheartedly. Michael rolls his eyes, then nudges Ashton onto his side and fits himself behind him. Ashton sighs and relaxes again almost immediately, a heavy weight at his front while Michael slides one arm under the pillow and anchors them together with the other. He gets a great view of Ashton’s sweaty and tangled hair, and that’s about it.

“There,” Michael murmurs. “Now I can’t watch you. Happy?”

Ashton hums. He’ll be out in less than a minute.

Regardless of all of Ashton’s jokes about Michael never sleeping (he resents that he looks tired enough at all times for that to be an assumption), Ashton managed to tire him out. He doesn’t  _ need _ to sleep right now, but there’s no harm in it. He lets the steady push and pull of Ashton’s breathing and the heartbeat he can barely feel under his palm lull him, and he drifts off soon after.

  
  


5.

“You want me to meet your family?” Michael asks, eyes wide in the face of this new information.

“If you’re comfortable with it,” Ashton says nonchalantly, but the way he’s avoiding Michael’s eyes tells him this conversation is anything but casual. He’s focused on throwing things into a blender, raspberries and peaches joining ice cubes and yogurt for a smoothie that Michael has watched him make dozens of times before. Michael can drink smoothies if they’re blended enough, and honestly he’s got a bit of a blood hunger going on because the last batch of his concoction from the magic store tasted gross and he’s supposed to go in today to get the new one. Still, a smoothie wouldn’t help with that, and he turned down Ashton’s offer in favor of a cup of coffee, wanting a warm mug in his hands. He’s glad to have something to keep his arms from flailing at this new curveball, in any case.

Ashton turns on the blender, the angry sound filling the previously-serene morning.

He can’t meet Ashton’s mum and siblings. He’s a vampire, and he’s already entirely too attached to Ashton as it is. It’s easy to fantasize about revealing his secret and Ashton being okay with it when it’s just the two of them, but there’s no way he can get to know his family only to break their heart when he has to leave Ashton for his own good.

Michael can’t watch Ashton grow old without him. He could do it for a few years, maybe a few decades, and he wants to spend as much time with him as possible, but eventually it would get too hard. Michael’s good at running, and he’s good at being alone. It’s harder to do both of those things with a family involved.

“That’s a big step,” Michael says once the blender stops.

“I’ve met Calum, and you said he’s closer than your family.”

“Against my will!”

Calum had insisted on meeting “the guy who’s got you wrapped around his finger,” and Michael had been powerless to stop it. They get on like a house fire and Michael gets teased about five times more than he used to, but he secretly loves it. Calum and Ashton are by far the two people he loves most in the world, and it’s nice to see them also enjoy each other.

“Michael,” Ashton says, pouring his smoothie into a glass and still refusing to look at him, something unfamiliar in his expression, “I’ve never gone this long without introducing them to someone I’m serious about. They really want to meet you.”

“I--I want to meet them, too, but…”

Ashton sighs and finally faces him head-on. Michael has never felt this small.

“Are you serious about us?”

“Of course,” he says, but it comes out more like a question, and he watches something shutter in Ashton’s eyes. He turns back to the blender, starting to dismantle it so he can rinse it properly, always trying to keep the kitchen neat, and Michael knows that he has to say something to try to fix this, anything to stop the sad slope of Ashton’s shoulders and that hurt look in his eyes.

“Ash, I have to tell you something,” he says before he can think twice. Ashton hums, and Michael steels himself for whatever reaction is about to occur, whether he has to bolt for the door or not. “I--um, well, I…”

He hasn’t had to confess to someone in over forty years. He doesn’t know how to do it anymore. He swallows and tries again.

“I don’t really know how to say this, but… I mean, I--”

“ _ Shit _ ,” Ashton exclaims, something clattering in the sink.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asks, and a second later the metallic tang of blood reaches his nose.

“Cut my thumb on the blender blades,” Ashton says, turning around and sticking the pad of his thumb in his mouth. Michael stares at him, unable to move.

The thing is, Ashton’s blood smells  _ really good _ . He knew it would, because if he loves everything else about Ashton it makes sense that he would love him down to the blood in his veins and the DNA it carries, but this is the first time Ashton has split skin in his vicinity, and it’s more to handle than Michael thought it would be. He’s hungry, and he’s upset, and Ashton is right there in front of him, bleeding.

He shakes himself from that train of thought.

“Are you alright? How bad is it?” he asks. Ashton takes his thumb out of his mouth to check, and that just makes the smell intensify. Michael feels a bit of saliva pool in his mouth and swallows it back.

“It’s not too bad,” Ashton says. “It mostly just hurts, but once the bleeding lessens I’ll put a bandaid on it and it should be fine.”

He goes to put it back in his mouth and glances up at Michael, freezing at whatever he sees there. Michael doesn’t know what his face is doing, or why his posture feels so stiff, or what the fuck he’s supposed to do with Ashton just standing there with a bleeding thumb, and for a long moment they just stare at each other. Michael forgets to breathe.

Slowly, like he’s coaxing a startled animal towards him, Ashton reaches out his hand towards Micheal. A drop of blood drips off his thumb and onto the floor. Michael couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

“You know,” Ashton says, low and calm, “you could help me stop the bleeding, if you wanted.”

Michael stares at him, not comprehending the words, when he feels two pinpricks on the inside of his bottom lip.

His fangs dropped.

“I have to go,” he says, scrambling out of his seat and hastily putting his coffee on the table. He probably spills some, but he can’t look back to check, shoving on his shoes and sprinting out the door, Ashton’s questions echoing behind him.

_ Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. _

He’s scrambling for his phone as he tries to unlock his car, tears starting to cloud his vision with the panic. He presses Calum’s speed dial as soon as he gets the door open, tearing out of the parking space without putting on his seatbelt.

“Hello?” Calum finally answers.

“My fangs dropped,” he says, consonants coming out in that strange way they do when his mouth has more teeth than usual.

“What happened?” Calum asks immediately. He knows how serious something like this can be, especially for someone like Michael, who tries so hard to avoid it. He sniffles and blinks the tears out of his eyes so he can see the road better. Calum’s house is close, and he just needs to get a few more blocks before he has backup.

“I was with Ashton and he cut himself on a blender. I--we had a fight, or--I made him feel bad, in any case, and I haven’t eaten enough, and then he cut himself and I felt the fangs and ran out of there with no explanation. He’s going to hate me. I’ve ruined everything!”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Calum says, but it’s not like Ashton is  _ his _ boyfriend. Michael doesn’t know how to recover from something like this.

Calum tries to console him for the rest of the short car ride, stopping once Michael pulls into his driveway to turn an assessing gaze on him instead. His expression tells Michael that he’s leaving much to be desired right now.

“Alright, Mikey. Let’s get you out of the sun, yeah? We’ll figure this out.”

He holds out his arms, and Michael falls right into them, letting Calum lead him into the house. His fangs still prick at his lips, a sharp reminder of everything he ruined due to one second of lousy control.

  
  


+1

The bell to the magic shop digs as they enter, and Michael pulls down his sunglasses. Calum got him to stop crying and gave him a bit of his own leftover concoction, because he hadn’t drunk all of it due to the taste, either. It was enough for Michael to be able to get his fangs back under control, but it doesn’t stop how miserable he feels about the way he left, or the conversation they were having beforehand.

He can’t let himself be around Ashton if his fangs are going to drop like that. He would never hurt him, he knows that, but there’s still the potential that he can’t ignore. Ashton’s safety and comfort isn’t something he can risk. Even if Ashton was somehow okay with him being a vampire, they wouldn’t work.

Michael has known this since the beginning. He let himself fall in love, anyway.

There are three missed calls and over a dozen text messages that he still has to try to answer on his phone. There’s no way to do that without breaking both of their hearts, but Calum told Ashton that Michael is physically okay and that he’d talk to him tomorrow. For now, he needs to sort through his own feelings and calm down, and for that they need to pick up the weekly blood supply.

“Hi!” the witch at the counter says. His name is Luke, and Calum’s been flirting with him ever since he started working there. It would be cute if it didn’t make these excursions so tedious, and if Michael himself wasn’t currently mourning what is soon to be the end of an absolutely spectacular relationship.

“Our usual, please,” he says curtly. Luke glances between him and Calum, who gives a beaming smile, then heads to the back storage room.

“Maybe it’ll taste less like shit this time,” he mutters. Calum nudges him, but doesn’t get the chance to say anything before the bell over the door chimes again. Michael knows who it is before he turns around, the scent and rhythm of his heartbeat as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Ashton freezes in the doorway. He has changed into a sweatshirt, the one he wears when he’s having a bad day because it feels like a perpetual hug without having to be touched, and Michael is probably going to cry again. Out of the three of them, Calum pulls himself together first.

“Hello, Ashton. I didn’t know you frequented this shop.”

“Ashton!” Luke says, returning from the back with their order in a crate. “Did you bring it?”

Michael finally notices the tupperware in his hands when he hands it to Luke, who opens a corner and sniffs.

“You know each other?” Michael asks.

“Oh, sorry!” Luke says. “This is Ashton, my roommate. I’d never eat lunch if he wasn’t there to bring it to me.”

“ _ You’re _ the roommate?” Michael asks. In all of their months of dating, he never managed to meet the roommate, even though Ashton has known Calum for weeks. Weird schedules and Michael’s aversion to meeting and possibly getting attached to more people prevented it. Luke looks between Michael, Calum, and Ashton, and then a lightbulb hits.

“You’re Ashton’s Michael!”

“How many other vampires named Michael do you know?” Ashton asks, and Michael reels back, Calum’s hand on his spine the only thing keeping him upright.

“You know?” Ashton frowns.

“Michael, I’ve known since the first day I met you.”

“Wh--you never mentioned it!”

“I made some references, then figured it wasn’t something you were comfortable talking about.”

“Wait,” Luke says. “You know Ashton is a minor deity, right?”

“What _? _ ”

Michael turns desperately to Calum, because none of this makes sense, but Calum is having some sort of silent conversation with Luke.

“You two need to talk,” he says eventually.

“I need to show Calum something in the back, anyway,” Luke says, grabbing Calum’s sleeve and tugging him around the counter, shutting the door to the storeroom behind them. It’s not the slickest move that Michael’s ever seen, but he’s having a crisis and can’t be bothered to laugh at Luke for it.

“So,” Ashton says. “It seems there’s been a bit of miscommunication here.”

“You’re a  _ deity _ ?” Michael asks. Ashton starts to blush, which is cute. He clasps his hands together and nods once.

“Yeah, my entire family is. The religion died down centuries ago, so it’s mostly our belief in each other that’s keeping us alive. I’m basically just an immortal human now, but I’ve been around long enough to recognize other non-humans when I see them.”

“And you’ve known I was a vampire the entire time?” he asks. Ashton nods. “Oh.”

“I thought that you knew that I knew,” he says.

“I didn’t,” Michael says. “I thought you would hate me when you found out.”

“I could never hate you,” Ashton says, taking a step forward and reaching for him before he aborts the movement. Michael looks at his feet and wonders if what he says next will change that.

“My fangs dropped earlier, when you cut your thumb.” His voice is steadier than anticipated, but he can’t help but brace himself for Ashton to back away or run screaming. He doesn’t do either of those.

“Is that why you left so quickly?”

He nods, shame pooling in his stomach.

“I was offering, you know? I wouldn’t have minded if you had a taste.”

“But I didn’t know that at the time,” Michael says, focusing on the shame so he doesn’t do something horrible like start thinking about what it would really be like to have some of Ashton’s blood. “I just… lost control. I can’t do that. I won’t let myself.”

“I think you’re being a little hard on yourself,” Ashton says gently, stepping closer until he can put his hands on Michael’s arms, then sliding down to grasp his hands. “Can you look at me?” Michael tries, then shakes his head. “That’s okay, and your fangs dropping earlier is okay, too. You had a lot on your mind, were probably a little hungry, and I was waving my bloody finger under your nose, even if you didn’t recognize it as an invitation. What’s important is that you didn’t try anything without asking. You didn’t hurt me; you removed yourself from the situation. I would say that that’s keeping things pretty under control, wouldn’t you?”

“But I  _ could’ve _ hurt you, even if I didn’t.”

“Michael, you’re not a mindless beast,” Ashton says. “The fact that you’re this upset about your body’s natural physical reaction shows that. You’re not going to do anything to hurt someone else like that. You have to trust yourself.”

Michael wrinkles his nose, then finally makes himself meet Ashton’s eyes. There’s nothing but compassion there, no fear or disgust.

“You’re not going to hurt anyone,” Ashton repeats.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone,” Michael agrees. “I can trust myself with that.”

A grin breaks out on Ashton’s face.

“Good,” he says. “I trust you, too.”

“And, about meeting your family,” Michael starts.

“Don’t worry about that,” Ashton says. “I was a little pushy. We can talk about it and figure out something that works for both of us.”

“I was going to say that I’ll do it,” Michael says. “Half of my worry had to do with me being a vampire and you and your family being unsuspecting humans, but that’s not an issue anymore.”

“What about the other half?”

“Just normal meeting-the-family jitters,” he says. “They’re really important to you, and I don’t want them to hate me because I didn’t meet them earlier.”

“They won’t hate you,” Ashton says. “You’re a delight.”

“I hope they share that thought.”

“They will. I love you, so they will, too.”

Michael feels like he’s going to burst. He also feels menally exhausted from this entire affair and the emotional whiplash it’s giving him.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. Ashton answers by leaning forward, and Michael sinks against him, melting into the feeling.

“So,” Calum says loudly, startling them both. “Are you guys good now?”

“What do you think?” he snips.

“I don’t know, Luke,” Calum says, turning away from Michael and towards him. “Do you think that they’re good now?”

“They did look rather cosy,” Luke says. “In fact, I’d say that Ashton looked ready to pledge himself to Michael as his personal blood bank. His little ketchup packet, if you will.”

Calum bursts out laughing. Michael tries to be affronted, but Ashton starts laughing incredulously next to him.

“Ketchup packet? Is that what I’m reduced to?”

“There are worse titles,” Calum says between bouts of laughter. Luke looks ridiculously pleased at this development.

“Please never refer to him as my ketchup packet again,” Michael says. “I’m begging you not to.”

“If the fangs fit,” Luke says, which makes Calum dissolve into laughter again. It’s not even funny. Honestly, they deserve each other.

“Come on,” Ashton says. “Let’s go back to my place. I want to hear all about your vampire antics from the olden days, now that I know you’re okay with talking about it.”

“Only if I get to hear stories about being a minor deity,” Michael says, grabbing his part of the blood order. “Cal, you’re paying for this one!”

They’re out the door before Calum can protest, and Ashton puts an arm around his waist as they walk. It’s uncomfortably sunny out, but Michael feels no rush to get back inside. They’re both immortal, and they’ve got the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> The ketchup packet line is from Ainslee. It was too funny to not include
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! You can find me on tumblr at [allsassnoclass](http://allsassnoclass.tumblr.con). Check out the other works in this challenge [here!](https://ashesonthefloor.tumblr.com/post/633534107120549888/hello-welcome-to-my-halloween-fic-event)


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